My daughter April woke me from my post-chemotherapy nap today. "Do you hear that?" she asked. I concentrated and could hear a high-pitched, constant tone.She was concerned, so we searched the house to see if we could find its source before forming a plan of action.
I went into the bathroom and tripped the emergency switch. It had no effect. While I was switching on and off light switches, April went to other parts of the housse to search out the sound.
When she went to the bedroom door she said, "It's not as loud here." I was still in the bathroom and said, "It seems stronger in here." When April got to the bathroom entrance, she said she thought it stronger there. At the entrance I looked high for its source; April took the low road. That's where she found the source of the high-pitched tone.
When I finish my IV chemotherapy every other Tuesday, they hook up a portable pump to me in a fanny pack-type carrier. The pump dispenses about 2 teaspoonsful per hour of medication over about 46 hours. I've been told by my oncology team that if the tube pinches, an alarm will go off.
An alarm, to me, is a heart-stopping screeching, not a subtle, high-pitched tone that follows you around the house until you fix the pinch and reset the pump.
Some things you have to learn from experience. Sometimes you feel as if you've learned a valuable piece of information; other times you feel like an idiot. This time for me it was a two-fer.